Happy day, brothers and sisters! Here’s your Saturday morning reading sorted.
→ Thornbridge has been declared the best drinks producer in the UK by BBC Radio 4 Food Programme‘s Food and Farming awards. BrewDog came third. (The stories of both breweries are covered in some detail in Brew Britannia.)
→ Yvan Seth (who is now running a beer distribution business) has given some thought to how the cost of a pint breaks down.
(We’ve been brewing a post for while on a related subject: what impact might the introduction of the minimum wage and statutory holiday entitlement have had on the price of beer in the pub?)
→ News from Nick Mitchell of more single-hop ales from Marks & Spencer:
It did seem that the craft beer revolution had stopped being able to squeeze into its tight girl jeans and instead had pulled a nice comfy Blue Harbour rugby shirt over its growing paunch when Marks and Spencer started selling single-hopped beers…
→ Saved to Pocket this week: Simon Usborne’s piece for the Independent on how the old Usher’s brewery ended up in North Korea.
→ Our new favourite blog is The Quest for Edelstoff in which a German living in the UK attempts to perfect the home brewing of Bavarian-style beers through perseverance and precision.
→ We’re looking forward to trying this historically-inspired beer at North Bar in Leeds when we make our appearance on 19 May:
Brewed something a bit different today. Invert #1 and EKGs to the fore. 1.037. Right up my street but we'll see what everyone else thinks.
— MJ Lovatt (@braukerl) May 2, 2014
→ And, finally, we’re no experts, doesn’t Jim Koch’s magic anti-drunkenness yeast goop only work, if and when it does, because of the placebo effect? Decide you’re not going to get drunk and you won’t? (Which goes the other way, too.)
This poll is now closed.
On Sunday, we drank a great pint of Camden Hells, but were slightly concerned that we didn’t know for sure whether the beer in our glass was brewed in the UK, or in Germany.
We want to know whether transparency about place of manufacture is important to other people, hence this small, extremely unscientific poll.
We’ve just heard that Peter Austin, founder of Ringwood Brewery, died yesterday. He was 92 years old.
We were lucky enough to correspond with Mr Austin last year, albeit briefly. He was charming, patient and very kind, despite his frailty. On the phone, he made it very clear that he didn’t have the energy for a long conversation, before proceeding to answer the questions we’d sent him by post with military precision:
I was born in North London and went to the Highgate School, which I left in 1935 when my family moved back to where it had originated, the New Forest. I then spent a couple of years on the HMS Conway on the River Mersey – the idea was a career at sea. I eventually went to sea with P&O and then joined the Royal Navy during World War II. I was invalided out rather early in the war… My father was a director of Pontifex & Sons who were big in producing steel fittings for breweries, until stainless came along, when they were a bit slow off the mark. Going into brewing wasn’t my idea – it was through my father’s connections. He got me a pupillage with Roland Storey at the Friary Brewery in Guildford in Surrey… After my pupillage, I went to the Hull Brewery as third brewer.
After retiring in the late seventies, he got dragged back into the world of brewing because, as he was happy to admit, he needed the money.
His first triumph was building and getting established the Penrhos Brewery on behalf of Martin Griffiths, Terry ‘Python’ Jones and writer Richard Boston. He then launched his own brewery, Ringwood, in 1978, and thereafter came to be the ‘go to’ guy for advice on setting up similar operations.
When David Bruce was setting up his first Firkin brewpub in 1979, it was Austin who vetted his designs for a miniature basement brewkit. The two were both founder members of SIBA, which then stood for The Small Independent Brewers Association, and Austin was its first Chair.
He was particularly proud of his contributions to SIBA’s submission to the Monopolies and Mergers Commission which fed into the Beer Orders of 1989.
Throughout the eighties, as well as running Ringwood, Between 1978 and 1986, he installed 32 breweries in England, as well as many more in the far corners of the world, often working alongside another famous name in UK brewing, Brendan Dobbin.
We’ll raise a pint to him at the earliest opportunity.
There’s a detailed piece about Austin’s career by Brian Glover in the Summer 2013 edition of CAMRA’s BEER magazine which is well worth reading.
We’re very grateful to commenter BT for suggesting that we read Jonathan Meades’ essay ‘Pint Sized’, written in 1994 and collected with other pieces in Museum Without Walls (2012).
It is a rare treat to read something substantial about pubs and beer by someone who is not A Beer Writer, not least because, though he apparently thinks beer important, he does not love it unconditionally.
Writing of a childhood ‘spent… in pub car parks’, Meades recalls thinking that the adult world, as represented by the bar where is father and uncles drank, was ‘bad, stale, fungal, fusty’. Those xenophobic uncles considered beer a sacred part of Englishness, along with Vaughan Williams and G.K. Chesterton:
The Boy’s First Pint was about as close as middle-class, middle-century, middle-England got to the bar mitzvah.
Meades’ uncle was, it turns out, town clerk of Burton-upon-Trent, which recollection prompts this wonderful passage:
He and the councillors he despised and the brewers he sucked up to would have seen no virtues in hundred-year-old-industrial buildings. Especially not in the white heat of the Keg Era: that sort of beer, no nicer and no nastier than the preceding stuff, I thought then, was the brewing industry’s contribution to ’60s neophilia. This was the beer of the future. Soon the world would be all monorails and robots… And we’d toast our success in Red Barrel and Party Sixes…
Beer, he goes on to argue, is an ineffectual intoxicant; it makes British people poorly, because it is just nourishing enough to stop them eating while they down pint after pint; and wine is in many ways a better drink.
And yet, he concludes, to drink anything else in ‘deepest England’ would be ‘an act of ingestive treachery, dead wrong’. Beer is part of Britain, and Meades has apparently come round to his uncles’ way of thinking.
Elsewhere in the same anthology (we have not read it all yet) opponents of the term ‘craft beer’ might find useful ammo in Meades’ railing against classification and style frameworks in creative endeavours. ‘Do not judge by genre but by accomplishment’, he writes, and then quotes Duke Ellington: ‘The question is not whether it’s jazz music or whether it’s classical music but whether it’s good music.’
We bought Museum Without Walls in the Amazon Kindle store for £6.83. Isn’t the cover dreadful?